and
the grass all dead and the
weeds
spilling across the driveway
no
sons of ghosts no
need
for lies
sunlight
on faded flags until
the
idea of america becomesconfused
i
have my own theories about
who
needs to be killed
i
have a headache
three
in the afternoon
end
of julyand the air too thick to breathe
don’t
make a sound
don’t
waste your time on prayer
call
this place
you’ve
arrived at the oceanor call it the desert
and then consider the need for rain
park
in front of the apartment of
a
girl you used to knowand then wait
five
years becomes ten
ten
becomes twenty
don’t
let your children
catch
you growing old
don’t
be afraid to consider
suicide
from time to time
in
the end you can only
reject
your despair orembrace it
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